Part 3 Later they loitered along a winding path above the inn, and made love to one another. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief.
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